


It All Started with Gingerbread Cookies

by Saraste



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: (modern), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blue Mountains | Ered Luin, Christmas Cookies, Dís has a wife, F/F, First Dates, Fluff, Have a Happy Hobbit Holiday Gift Exchange, Nori butting his way in, Rule 63, Yule Day, Yule Fair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-17 16:27:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16977999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/pseuds/Saraste
Summary: Thorin meets Bilbo selling decorated gingerbread cookies at the annual Ered Luin Yule Fair, the meeting is a start to something more.





	1. An Ered Luin Yule Fair

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnironSidh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnironSidh/gifts).



> Happy Hobbit Holiday, dear giftee, may your holidays be filled with merriment, good food and relaxation!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)
> 
> Beta-read by Anonymous.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin visits the Ered Luin Yule Fair with her sister sons and meets a "gingerbread lady." (Kíli's words, not hers.)

The Yule Fair of Ered Luin was a wondrous thing. It was full of joyous laughter and music, sights and sounds, which all together really awoke a festive mood in a person, if one happened to lack it, and if one was in the holiday spirit already, why, it just made it all the better. The fair was held in a big cobblestone-paved market square, which had stayed unchanged for centuries. The square was flanked by brick and stone buildings, which were all of the same old vintage. There were wreaths of evergreens all over, white and golden lights strewn among them to create a lovely winter-wonderland mood, and some of the wreaths looked like they had twinkling stars in them instead of merely lights. In the middle of the square there stood a big fir tree festooned with lights and decorations. The vendors had set up their stalls around the edges of the market, so there was plenty of room for people to walk around and drink in the festive atmosphere while inspecting the wares. It was said that there had been a Yule Fair held at that very place for hundreds of years, and it was easy to believe, because even the cobblestones seemed to be seeped in good cheer and the season’s hopes and dreams.

Thorin had come with her sister-sons so that Dís could -- as she had said herself -- get some order into the house after those rapscallions. Thorin hadn’t needed much persuading, truth be told, as she cherished any time that she got to spend with her hellion nephews, because she loved them dearly, as did their mother, but the holidays were always a bit mad. Although, it might be just that Dís wanted some time alone with her wife Sígrunn, which Thorin was more than willing to help with, only if she didn’t need to think about it too much.

The boys were happy to go with her, as ever, and it was actually tradition by now that Thorin visited the Yule Fair with them on the first weekend it was held. The boys would go again with their mothers on the last weekend, she knew, and that was tradition, too. Yuletide was all about tradition and Thorin didn’t mind playing a part in them, but sometimes she wished that there might be someone she could create new traditions with, too. Maybe even special intimate ones that they wouldn’t share with anyone.

But she wasn’t letting that define her life, certain that she would meet that special someone when she was least expecting it, much like Dís had. Thorin was willing and ready to wait for a good thing, her perfect fit.

There was much love to fill her heart and her hands weren’t empty even now, Fíli holding to her right and Kíli her left. She knew that there would come a time when they would too old to do that, so she cherished every moment of it.

Everyone’s cheeks were red with the cold, even when th7e boys were warmly tucked into woollen winter coats and sturdy leather boots with woollen socks on their feet, and swaddled with thick scarves, hats and mittens to finish the ensemble. (If truth be told, they were well-nigh spherical, and Thorin privately thought Dís might be going a bit overboard with her fear of cold.) Thorin was thankful there was snow on the ground, it added that little bit of something, even when she was a bit suspicious there might be ice underneath, ready to trip up little, or bigger, feet. But that was a worry for all winter, so she didn’t dwell on it overmuch. The air really was cold, but none of them minded, not even Thorin in her long big coat and knit-wear, as there thankfully wasn’t any wind and her skirts were warm.

They were wandering around the fair, looking at all the little stalls selling varied wares in the spirit of the season: knitwear and yarn in all the colours of the rainbow, felted clothing, jewellery, ornaments, handmade china, woodcarving, candles, ironware, savoury food and spices and, of course, all manner of baked goods.

The latter drew Kíli’s attention and he started tugging Thorin towards a stall displaying gingerbread cookies decorated with intricate frosting patterns, both monochrome and intricately multicoloured, Thorin noted, not looking at the vendor as her attention was on the beautifully made cookies, the vendor was bent down and rummaging at something behind the counter in any case, so there was nothing to see except the back of their bright red coat. ‘I want those! Kíli was declaring, yanking at Thorin’s coat-sleeve.

As they stood by the stall and Thorin coughed politely, the vendor finally stood up and turned around. The vendor was a woman. Short golden-brown curls spilled out beneath the knitted hat she was wearing, her cheeks and the tip of her nose were bitten red with cold in spite of the great fluffy scarf wound around her shoulders over a woollen jacket, and she was tiny, easily a foot shorter than Thorin, and her eyes, as she looked up at her, had no single colour in the pale light of the winter afternoon, but shifted from green to hazel.

'Well?' she said, her eyebrows quirking up with a half-amused air, and Thorin had never seen anything so pretty in her life., and dressed in an old-fashioned woollen skirt with matching wool coat, wearing brightly coloured fingerless mittens, as was the custom among the vendors to create an old-timey feel.

Thorin knew that she was staring, but she couldn’t help herself, the incurable romantic in her was declaring this as the perfect first meeting and was painting rosy pictures of this pretty woman being her good thing, but the rational part of her was warning for her to not get ahead of herself.

Kíli tugged at her, demanding ‘Gingerbreadses!’ at the same time the vendor flashed them all a warm smile. ‘A Happy Yuletide to you all! What can I get you today?’

 _Your number_ almost slipped from Thorin’s mouth before she could stop herself. She coughed. Fíli tugged at her, too. ‘Gingerbreads, auntie Thorin?’

‘Yes, we’d like some of these, if you’d be so kind,’ Thorin finally managed and hoped she wasn’t staring too obviously, although the vendor was looking at her in a way that made it reasonably clear that she, at least, had noticed.

‘What sort? I have the ones with only one colour of frosting, though maybe you’re more interested in these multicoloured ones? I’m quite proud of how those turned out, if I may say so myself,’ she pointed out.

‘Indeed,’ Thorin said, bending to look closer. She was right, the multicoloured cookies _were_ really well-turned-out. The patterns were mostly flowers with some winding swirls or stars, but there were also some really nice star-shaped ones decorated with shades of blue, which Thorin was rather drawn to. Their family still had a family crest, even if all the money and prestige was gone, seven stars argent on a field of deep vivid blue, quite like the colour of the long winter coat she was wearing even now. She pointed out the gingerbread stars. ‘I’d like some of these, please.’

‘Really?’ the vendor smiled. ‘Those were actually my favourite to make, I based them on the folksong _Seven Sons of Durin_ , do you know it?’

Did she know it? What a thing to ask. But she couldn’t go out blurting the truth, that she was of the noble family mentioned in the song depicting the trials of the six sons of Durin who had come and gone in this life and the seventh yet to come, who would bring glory back to the family, after whom there would be no other Durin, but the family would prosper forevermore. But she couldn’t say that, not to someone she had just met, it she would never believe her, for one thing, and might think that Thorin was just trying to impress her! So she said, after having been quiet for too long, ‘Yes, I do know the song.’ Her fingers were twitching to fiddle with her long and thick black braids hanging loose over her scarf, it was a rather irritating nervous habit of hers.

‘But auntie Thorin,’ Kíli piped up, wanting to show off, ‘isn’t that song about _us_?’

‘What?’ the vendor asked. She looked up at Thorin, meeting her eyes, looking confused but also hopeful. ‘What?’ she repeated.

Thorin sighed. Fíli picked up on his little brother’s train of thought, too. Thorin was sure Kíli had only mentioned it because they had been singing the song several times last weekend. ‘Yeah, it is about us, isn’t it?’ Fíli said, ‘we were just learning it with you and mama and ma last weekend. It’s tradition, you said,’ he added the last with a slightly accusatory tone of voice, as if insinuating that Thorin had been lying. Maybe part of it was also the fact that Fíli did not enjoy having to try and learn the song by rote, as it was rather long, with seven rather winding verses, one each for the seven sons of Durin. Asking a seven-year-old to memorize it was maybe a bit too much, but it was the family custom to pass on the song from one generation to the next through learning it by heart. In contrast, Kíli, though he was only five, loved the learning of it. _‘There once was a king of old / here to there the story’s been told,’_ he started to belt out there and then. The vendor squealed in delight, tapping her mittened hands and Thorin was aware of heads turning their direction as Kíli went on.

There was no hiding it now. Thorin met the woman’s eyes and bowed deeply. ‘Thorin Durinul, at your service and your family’s. And the boy is telling it true, the song _is_ about our family.’

Her pretty eyes widened. ‘You’re fibbing,’ she gasped, breath frosting in the air.

Thorin gave her a wide, honest smile. ‘No fibbing, to that I swear,’ she vowed, bowing to her with her hand grasped to her breast, an almost courtly bow.

When she straightened, the vendor’s eyes were even wider than before, he light of her dangling lantern reflecting off of them, and she might have been blushing under her cold-reddened cheeks. ‘You’re straight out of a fairy-tale, aren’t you?’ she said, softly, and then covered her mouth with a mittened hand, apparently having said something she hadn’t indented to.

Thorin chuckled. ‘Hardly, but maybe out of folktale, as our family’s misfortunes have been put into song and verse by high and low alike.’ Beside her Kíli was still belting away, getting most of the words right, even if his tune was a bit off, Thorin patted his head.

‘I feel like I’m meeting a celebrity,’ the pretty woman said and then reached her hand over her wares for Thorin to shake, ‘Bilbo Baggins, nice to meet you.’

Thorin wished there wasn’t a barrier of mittens between their skin as they shook hands. She was such a hopeless romantic. ‘My pleasure.’ But she _didn’t_ imagine the feel of the slim fingers lingering against her palm through the twice-damned mittens of hers when their hands parted. She swallowed.

There was a tug at her coat and she looked down, hoping she wasn’t blushing overmuch herself. ‘Gingerbreadses now?’ Kíli, who had wound down with the song, now asked, hopeful. ‘Yeah, gingerbreads!’ Fíli joined in.

‘Well, you seem to be in want of gingerbreads, Thorin?’ Bilbo said and was already taking out a cardboard box. ‘You and those delightful nephews of yours?’ Her words ended with a questioning rise, as while Kíli had called Thorin aunt, Fíli hadn’t.

Thorin put her hand over Kíli’s woollen cap. ‘This is Kíli, and that young lion is his older brother, Fíli.’ She didn’t instruct the boys to bow, but they did so anyway, with varying success. There was a delighted sound from Bilbo.

‘Lovely to make your acquaintance young masters -- now, what sort of gingerbread might you wish for?’

*

‘Thorin, what is this?’ Dís called from the kitchen mere minutes after Thorin had handed her the star-patterned box full of gingerbread cookies, having kept a smaller box with a handful of the Sons of Durin cookies to herself.

‘Gingerbread cookies!’ Thorin yelled back absently, helping Kíli pull off his boots, which seemed to be enamoured with his feet and did not want to part with them, hence the need for assistance.

‘Oh, is that what they are calling it now?’ Dís was standing in the kitchen doorway, looking into the hallway, holding up a folded piece of paper.

A teasing smile spread onto Dís’ face as she carefully folded it open with a flourish and read aloud. ‘ _It was lovely meeting you, Thorin, maybe we could meet and have coffee sometime? xxx Bilbo,_ and there’s a phone number, too!’ Dís looked at Thorin with a mix of teasing and fondness on her face.

Thorin’s eyes widened in shock, how had she missed that?

‘That’s…’ Thorin floundered, at a loss for words. She had hoped, but when Bilbo hadn’t given her number outright, she had been quite despondent.

‘The gingerbread lady was really nice!’ Kíli piped up.

The winter-boot Thorin had been tugging on finally gave in and she ended up on her backside on the hallway floor, while Kíli giggled delightedly as Dís picked him up, coincidentally upside-down, which didn’t seem to bother him, quite the opposite. She was looking down at Thorin, voice full of sisterly exasperation. ‘Text her, _please_.’

Thorin rubbed at her smarting behind when she got up. ‘Who said I wasn’t going to?’

Dís kissed her cheek, still holding a kicking and giggling Kíli upside down. ‘ _Do it_. You deserve to be happy.’

Thorin kissed her cheek back. ‘I will,’ she promised, touched by her sister’s concern.

The tender moment was broken by a yell from the kitchen. ‘Are we going to eat these gingerbreads or not? Before Fíli nags me to death, please?’ Sígrunn called out from the kitchen.


	2. A Coffee Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a first date is had and enjoyed.

Thorin's first tentative message had evolved into a texted conversation that ran long into the night, then equally meandering phone calls over the past week, and now it was Saturday again, and they had arranged to meet for coffee, as Bilbo had suggested in her note. It was Saturday again, the date of their agreed date, and they had arranged to meet at Ri’s, a cafe recently opened in the Old Town of Ered Luin.

Thorin was already waiting when Bilbo arrived, a little harassed and late due to a delivery issue with her supplier, if only by shy of ten minutes, and had shot a quick text telling she would be late. She was usually very punctual and had wanted to make a good second impression, this was the first time they were meeting without Thorin’s nephews, their very first proper date, and hopefully the first of many more to come. Yet even while she was late, she couldn’t really say that she would have liked to have missed what she saw, walking over to the table: Thorin in an unguarded moment, bent over a book. She was already a little bit enamoured and intrigued, the sight before her just added to her interest, a woman who read was a woman to her liking. She tried to covertly spy the title of Thorin’s book, but was thwarted in her efforts.

‘Hello, Thorin, sorry I’m late! There was a pastry emergency.’ She had come all the way to the table without Thorin raising her eyes from the book. It wasn’t until Bilbo greeted her that Thorin looked up, her blue eyes, which Bilbo now saw really well for the first time, very pretty indeed and such a deep blue it made her speechless. Or maybe it was the look in them, the delighted crinkles that formed around Thorin’s eyes as she saw her.

Thorin rose, her finger marking her spot with a finger, she had very nice-looking hands, Bilbo noticed.  She was so transfixed that she almost startled when Thorin spoke. ‘Not at all, you’re here _now_.’

Bilbo knew that she was wearing her heart in her sleeve as she smiled at Thorin and stepped closer to her.

Bilbo wanted to kiss her, she was so lovely in her blue dress and her long black hair in a messy bun, star-shaped earrings dangling from her ears and her whole face showing her delight. Yet she conceded to a little hug, their first, she realized, as she wrapped her shorter arms around Thorin’s bigger body. It was a very nice hug, warm and firm. A definite plus, since Bilbo was quite partial to nice hugs. Thorin was clearly interested, but Bilbo didn’t want to hurry get ahead of herself, even if Thorin felt like adventure and something wild under the surface, even when she had also seen her soft side with her nephews. ‘Thank you. What are you reading?’ she asked after sitting down She set her bag carefully on the bench beside her, it would keep, even if apprehensive excitement was burning at her.

Thorin showed her the cover, which had an old-looking wood-carving with a dragon roaring out fire and trees burning. ‘Ereborean folktales,’ she said, as if that hadn’t been Smaug the Terrible, the bane of the house of Durin, on the cover.

Before Bilbo had a chance to say anything in reply, a waiter appeared by their table, notepad in hand. ‘Good evening! What can I get you?’

Bilbo had never been at the Ri’s before, but had wanted to go since it’s opening. She had heard the place was run by three siblings, and their waiter, a young man with long reddish hair, was undoubtedly the middle brother, as he wasn’t the youngest, whose picture had been in the paper with his name and alongside what had been named the oldest brother of the three.

To Bilbo’s slight chagrin, Thorin smiled at him with warm familiarity that made jealousy prick at Bilbo’s heart. ‘Evening Nori, how’s Dwalin?’

‘All limbs still accounted for when I left to work, babysitting those rascals you call nephews, as you very well know. Because it’s date-night all around for the Durin siblings while I must languish here under Dori’s iron boot and miss on all the fun. But what about you?’ He turned to Bilbo and gave her a once-over. _And a wink._ ‘My, you _are_ pretty! Going to make this grumpy sod a little less grumpy?’

Thorin sighed, rubbing at her temples. ‘Nori, please-- could we just order now?’

Their waiter took Bilbo’s hand and bowed over it with a flourish. ‘Nori at your service, nice to meet you.’

‘Bilbo, at yours. And you are?’ she looked between him and Thorin, a little speculative.

Nori burst out laughing, making a few of the other patrons look their way. ‘No need to worry about me, dear, I’m quite committed to Thorin’s cousin Dwalin, and in any case, I don’t do girls, even if they’re as pretty as you.’

‘I’d hope you were committed,’ Thorin opined, ‘with that ring on your finger and that bead in your braid.’

Bilbo looked and spied the ring immediately; it was clearly an engagement ring, but there was also a single braid hanging on the left side of Nori’s face. Bilbo didn’t understand the significance, as her family wasn’t originally from Ered Luin, although it might be an Ereborean custom, Ered Luin having been founded by Ereborean refugees from the north. She’d have to ask Thorin about it later. Nori held up his notepad, ‘Alright, alright, settle down. I was just teasing a little. Now, what can I get you? I recommend the cinnamon buns, they came out really nice today, as did the lovely Durin Cake made by yours truly.’

Bilbo had heard of Durin Cake, it was a specialty of Ri’s: a blue cake with white filling, and silver stars placed so cunningly atop the blue frosting that each generous slice had exactly seven. ‘Well, I’d like a slice of Durin Cake, please.’

‘I could say something naughty now, but I shan’t,’ Nori said while scribbling down the order. But he did wink. And Bilbo blushed.

There was an indescribable sound from across the table and Thorin said. ‘I’ll have a cinnamon bun, as they are always delicious and I’m in the mood for something a little spicy.’

Nori turned a choked snort into a cough with somewhat varied success. ‘I bet you would,’ he said under his breath, before beaming at them. ‘And what would you like to drink, please?’

‘I’ll have a cappuccino, please,’ Bilbo said, starting to like Nori.

‘Likewise,’ Thorin ordered.

*

After they had enjoyed their delicious pastries, and Bilbo really _had to_ try the Durin cake again, they ended up standing outside the little cafe in the Old Town of Ered Luin, where everything building was an echo to history and days past. The air was frosty with a promise of snow in the breeze.

They lingered in that awkward space after a date, but before goodbyes, where a kiss is a gift but not necessarily a promise, although with the way Thorin had been staring at her mouth for the past hour or so, Bilbo was quite sure that she was not alone with what she wanted. She patted her bag in a nervous gesture and felt cardboard under her mittens -- she had almost forgotten the cookies. ‘Oh, right, I had something for you.’ She presented the box to Thorin with a nervous smile. It was blue with a silver bow and of a moderate size. Their fingers lingered when Thorin took the box, but she didn’t open it right away.

‘What is it?’

‘Just a little something that I thought you might like,’ Bilbo said, looking at Thorin and hoping she didn’t appear as anxious as she felt. Gifts on a first date was a bit much, wasn’t it? She shouldn’t have. But she had been trying out a new technique, had been thinking of Thorin and gotten a bit carried away. ‘Go on, open it.’

Thorin did, just staring inside for a few moments, apparently stunned speechless. Finally, she spoke, voice hushed, almost reverent. ‘These are…’

‘They’re called stained glass cookies, well, gingerbread cookies, the “window” is sugar. Do you like them?’

‘They’re… I feel like I ought to say that they’re too much.’

‘Then don’t,’ Bilbo closed her fingers over Thorin’s, so the box was held in both their hands. It was the perfect moment for a kiss, so they did, leaning over the short distance between them and touching their lips together softly, tentatively, seeking out each other and what felt good.

Thorin’s hand reached out to cup her head, to sink into her wild curls as she deepened the kiss, and Bilbo had a moment’s fear that the box might get crushed, but couldn’t find it in her to care overmuch, because the kiss was everything.

Eventually, as even good things did, the kiss met its end, but didn’t depart far. Their breath plumed in the frigid air between them and they shared a perfect stillness of having started something and being intent to follow the path taken to wherever it might lead with sparkling eyes and smiles on their faces.

It started snowing.


	3. A Yuletide Affair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin asks Bilbo to spend Yule Day with her.

After that first date they met a second time, and a third, and talked on the phone every night. Thorin visited Bilbo’s little bakery Baking’s End, which her mother had established when Bilbo had been but a thought. She had grown up in the shop and the kitchen, learning her trade at her mother's knee. Bilbo had inherited the bakery after her parent's untimely death and had made little changes to the place, but it still felt like her own. Thorin brought the boys over one time and Bilbo would forever remain The Gingerbread Lady to Kíli.

In no time at all it was only a week to Yule and Thorin was plagued with a dilemma: should or shouldn't she ask Bilbo to join her for the holidays?

Dís had cruelly left the decision to her, claiming that one mouth more to feet would be no trouble at all, honestly. And Thorin knew that Dís was as curious to meet Bilbo than the rest of their meddling if well-meaning family members. The Yuletide feast, which should have been Thorin's responsibility as the older sibling, was always a grand affair with plenty of good food, merriment and every relation of theirs who could make it there and their spouses and children. It was lucky that Dís and Sígrunn had a big house to fit them all.

Thorin found herself wool-gathering at the bakery door, her hand on the handle, hesitating whether or not to turn it. She sighed and went in, the little bell on the door jangling to announce her entry.

Bilbo looked at her from behind the counter, a wide smile on her face and dimples on her cheeks. ‘I wasn't sure if you were going to come in at all.’

Thorin felt a blush creeping on her cheeks. ‘Well…’

Miraculously, there were no customers, but that could change at any moment, so she'd better make use of her opportunity while she still had it.

She'd walked over to the counter and leaned over it to give Bilbo a soft kiss. ‘Hi.’

‘Hi. Did you come over just to kiss me? Shouldn't you be at work?’

‘I'm my own boss, love,’ she ached at how easily the endearment passed her lips and how it made Bilbo’s eyes twinkle, ‘my hours are flexible.’

Bilbo smiled at her slyly and only now did Thorin notice that there was a book on the counter beneath her hand and Thorin couldn’t tell if she was trying to hide it or not. It was back-side up but Thorin recognized it immediately and didn't know if she should have been pleased or horrified. It really wasn't her best work. ‘And term has ended so you're not needed at Uni, either.’

‘And that,’ Thorin conceded. ‘Why are you reading that old thing?’

Bilbo picked up the book. ‘This? Because you wrote it.’

‘It's not my best work, you know?’ Thorin attempted. She was a good scholar, but Bilbo was reading her very first book, which more a labour of love than anything, even when its scholarly merits were sound.

‘I like it,’ Bilbo said and looked Thorin in that way that told her to shut up before Bilbo made her.

‘Alright. I actually came here to ask you something.’

‘That you couldn't ask over the phone?’

‘Well…’ Thorin looked at Bilbo, who was wearing a pretty short-sleeved green dress and matching embroidered apron, with bronze little acorns dangling from her ears. She swallowed nervously, she had never done this before. ‘Would you like to spend Yuleday with me?’

Bilbo’s face split in a delighted grin. ‘Of course! Did you think that I wouldn't? ‘She reached across the counter to grasp Thorin's hand.

‘You should know that I gave a standing invitation to Dís’ and have to go or face the tears of my nephews. And, most of the extended family will be there.’

‘Oh, Thorin…  That doesn't change anything. I've been waiting to meet Dís anyway. And your mother.’ Bilbo turned away, ‘a family yuletide, it'll be lovely.’

Thorin laid her hand on Bilbo’s shoulder, ‘If you think it's too much–’

Bilbo turned, her eyes a little too bright. ‘No, I'm sure it'll be lovely, I haven't been to a big family yuletide feast since I was a child.’ Her hand touched Thorin’s. ‘And I’m no stranger to noisy relatives, so I can handle it.’

They sealed their agreement with a kiss just in time for the door to jangle and admit a customer from the snowy winter air, red-cheeked and puffing and already talking.

Bilbo gave Thorin an apologetic look and she held her fingers to her ear, mimicking calling, receiving a nod even while Bilbo was saying ‘Yes, I do have some, do you want these red ones?’

*

It was half past one in the afternoon on Yuleday and Bilbo was fidgeting in front of the mirror. She really wanted to make a good impression, but not look like she was trying too much. There was a balance, she knew, but where was it?

Surely, she wasn’t overdressed in her best green dress with the yellow embroidered waistcoat with decorative lacing at the back and brass buttons at the front. As it would be a family occasion, a sweetheart neckline was suitable, and the long sleeves would be nice if it got chilly inside, although she wasn’t sure what sort of house Dís lived in, as Thorin hadn’t said.

She brushed her hair and decided that it was as good as it was going to get, too short for putting up and not yet too long to get in her eyes. Her things were ready, a cake and some cookies to butter up her host and impress the young ones.

  
The doorbell rang just as she was thinking if she really should have done _something_ to her hair. She checked her watch, it was twenty to two, the time Thorin had said she'd come pick her up. ‘Is it that time already?’ she muttered, hurrying down from her upstairs bedroom, her things were waiting for her in the hall.

  
She opened the door to a red cheeked Thorin in her now familiar blue winter coat and a fluffy scarf and did she spy a skirt underneath it all? How positively festive! They She pulled Thorin away from the doorstep, not wanting to call back luck on them by kissing in the doorway. ‘Merry yuletide,’ Thorin finally managed to wish her when they had kissed enough, ‘ready to face the horde?’

  
Bilbo pushed at her gently. ‘I don't believe it'll be as awful as you're trying to make it sound. I've met the boys more than once and Dwalin was nice, if a bit gruff that one-time Nori brought him over.’

  
Thorin held her close in the circle of her strong arms and Bilbo leaned into the embrace. ‘Are you saying you aren't nervous?’

  
‘Of course, I am, but I'll be with you, won't I?’

  
‘I'll guard you with my life.’

  
Bilbo knew she was joking, but she had a fleeting vision of how Thorin might have been, had she said what she did in another time, at a time when ballads were true, valour was valued and Thorin would have slain a dragon to defend her honour.

  
*

  
Thorin shouldn't have worried, Bilbo was like a fish in water among Thorin's many and variously meddlesome relatives, some of whom were already asking pointed questions even though the two of them had barely been dating all of three weeks, if one counted from their first kiss. But Bilbo was already such a seamless part of her life that Thorin couldn't have said what it had been like to live without knowing her, she only knew that it would burn her heart like dragon fire if Bilbo was suddenly gone. It was a good thing that Bilbo seemed to be content to stay.

  
Yule dinner was a wondrous thing; Dís and Sígrunn having outdone themselves, as ever. There were several different casseroles, peas and mashed potatoes to appease the younglings’ tastes and of course the centrepiece, without which it wouldn't be Yule: an entire enormous ham with a spicy sauce to accompany it. There was wine and ale to spare and the children got some apple juice, which Thorin explained was made from the apples in the small orchard in the backyard, there was even some self-made cider.

  
There was laughter and an incessant buzz of conversation and Thorin saw Bilbo’s face glow with contentment and that alone felt almost enough, that she had been able to give Bilbo this experience of a raucous, joyous family feast of midwinter.

  
Bilbo took hold of her hand and kissed her cheek as she squeezed Thorin's fingers between hers. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered soft enough for Thorin to hear and then, eyes mischievous, took her lips in a brief kiss to the whole table erupting into good natured cheering and whistles.

  
‘’Who wants another slice of ham?’ Sígrunn asked the room, once the hubbub had died down, brandishing her knife like a sword.

  
*  
  


Presents followed the late lunch, ‘for time to digest,’ Sígrunn had winked at Bilbo. Her own family usually did, or had done, presents last after a long Yule meal ending in coffee, cake and groaning.

It was all a blur in Bilbo’s mind because her mind transfixed on Thorin’s gift to her: a pair of Durin star earrings in silver, the tiny stars hanging from the head of an upside-down hammer. They were proof of Thorin’s craft and more than what Bilbo thought she should have, although she had brought Thorin special cookies onto their first date, was reading through Thorin’s collected works (even the romance novels set in old Erebor – Thorin didn’t know she even knew about those, but Nori had been downright gleeful as he told her) so who was she to judge? But if she had read her books right, it was a very special occasion when someone of Durin’s house gifted anything with the Durin emblem in them to someone. Its signified courting, proper old-fashioned, ends-in-marriage kind of courting and they had only barely kissed so far.

She had looked from the earrings to Thorin with a question on her face, even when she couldn’t quite put it into words. Thorin nodded her dark head, her braided crown decorated with seven, no more and no less, silver stars and she was beautiful and she was Bilbo’s, old fashioned courting and all.

*

When they left late that night, there was no question of Thorin taking Bilbo back to her little house in the outskirts of town with its little garden and kitchen that smelled like home and all good things, no, she took Bilbo into her own home, a little flat just the right size for her and her books and her ginger cat, jokingly named Smaug, like the dread dragon in the Tale of the Fall of Erebor, which formed part of the Duriniad.

 

Bilbo made Thorin breakfast the morning after and it was the start of a very good thing for both.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This will not be the end of me playing around in this verse, I had too much fun with it.


End file.
